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Challenges:

Greek Mythology Mega Challenge / Prompt : Coeus - Write about pre-Hogwarts Harry Potter

Harry Potter Chapter Challenge / Prompt : The Whomping Willow - Write about something unexpected.

100 Drabbles Challenge / Prompt : #85 Lonely

Fanfiction Perfumers Challenge / Prompt : Cedar - Kingsley Shacklebolt

Harry Potter was unusual in many ways. He had eyes that were magnified by glasses that didn't fit his eyes, his hair stuck out in odd angles, he always wore baggy clothes, his shoes were a little too big. Those were just some reasons the boys at his primary school picked fun on him.

His day started out normally. At a mere age of 8, he learned how to fry omelets and launder the linens. His Aunt Petunia wanted some oatmeal today, so he cooked before getting ready for school. As soon as the Dursleys finished with their breakfast, it was now time to wash the dishes. Little Harry had to do the dishes fast in order for him not to get late in class.

He took a short bath and readied himself, not even bothering to comb through his hair. None of them were left in Number 4 Privet Drive, since Uncle Vernon had to report early in the morning in Grunnings, Aunt Petunia had an appointment at a local salon, and Dudley had to go to school. That school is the same with Harry's, so any chance of friends were revoked from him.

The Dursleys stuffed themselves in their car and Harry, meanwhile, had to take a long walk towards the school next neighborhood because 'Dudley wasn't to be seen with a baggy piece of filth'. Harry certainly didn't mind because he had time to think. Dudley wasn't there so there was no one who would bully him. That seemed to brighten up Harry a bit.

School was fairly normal, but Harry was quite sad that he didn't have friends to play with. None of them really went up to him to even say hi. Maybe because Dudley told them not to.. Dudley was the kind who everyone liked. He had many playmates, girls and boys alike, and the teachers pinched his chubby cheeks every time he entered the room.

Harry was tired of being alone and seeing a small group of rowdy boys on the next table, he wanted a change. He inhaled and exhaled, building up confidence to stand up and talk to the boys. He had not as much reached their table when a foot had stuck out to trip him.

Harry, bruised and fuming, glared daggers at Dudley's friend. The boy was snickering above him, watching him without mercy. Harry wanted to pucnh him so badly! He would have punched him if he weren't on the ground and if not for his frail arms.

The next thing he knew, the boy doubled over, clutching his stomach with pain evident in his face. Everyone in the lunch room stared wide-eyed, even Harry. Had he caught a bug in his throat while laughing at him? Or did he have some gastric disease?

"Leon? Leon, what's happening?" Mrs. Figworts worriedly asked the boy who was hunched over.

"It feels like I have been p-punched, Ma'am!" cried the boy.

"Did Harry punch you?" barked the teacher unbelievingly. "He wouldn't have." she shook her head.

"He did, Mrs. Figworts." boasted Dudley.

"I did not!" bellowed Harry, looking around for proof. "You tell Mrs. Figworts that I didn't!"

But Harry didn't have any friends to begin with. All of their classmates were scared of Dudley, sohe was left defenseless.

"Harry Potter! My office, now!" demanded Mrs. Figworts who was fuming with rage. Harry just obeyed since no one would testify for him.

"Explain." Mrs. Figworts stood over him with her arms crossed. "Why did you punch Leon?"

"I did not!"

"Then why did he feel like somebody had punched him? Dudley told me that he accidentally tripped you over, then you got really angry angry at him and punched him in the stomach." Mrs. Figworts tapped her foot impatiently. "Are you saying that Dudley is a liar? Or poof! Someone invisible punched Leon in the stomach? Magic?" she shot question after question, grilling Harry of his confession.

"But I - " Knock, knock, knock.

"Enter, please." the teacher sighed, removing her glasses as a tall man entered, dressed in a strange combination of clothes.

"I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt. Can I talk to Harry, please?" the man asked nicely in a deep voice. It wouldn't possible be Leon's dad, because Leon's surname was along the lines of Humpledunk or Higglyward.. Or was he?

"M-Me?" stuttered Harry in surprise.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" Mrs. Figworts hastily placed her glasses on the bridge of her nose to look closely at the strange person.

"Yes, Madame." said the man calmly.

"Okay." Mrs. Figworts straightened up and walked out of her own office.

Harry then looked up at the man who called himself Kingsley Shacklebolt. "How do you know me, Sir?" Harry politely asked.

"That's a story for some other time, kid. I have a question to ask: Did you or did you not punch Leon.." Mr. Shacklebolt glanced down to a piece of paper, ".. Harpylurk?"

"N-No." Harry tried to maintain a straight face.

"That's all I needed to ask, kid." Mr. Shacklebolt beamed at him while writing down something on the paper.

"It's extraordinary to have finally meet you, Mr. Harry Potter." said the man in a very grateful voice.

"I insisted that I was the one to interrogate you, too. Gladly, I was on good terms with the Minister." Mr. Shacklebolt proudly said.

The Prime Minister of Great Britain?

"C-Certainly nice to have m-met you too, Mr. Shacklebolt." Harry stood up as the man strode towards the door.

"You should call me Kingsley the next time we see each other, Harry."

And with that, the man gave him a little lift of his bowler hat and disappeared on thin air.

Was Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt real or was he really going mad?